CHAPTER 457: CHAPTER 457: DECISIONS, DECISIONS (PART 7)

The academic wing stretched in long rectangular halls, bright lamps lined into the ceiling in neat intervals.

Bulletin boards clung to the walls, most covered in fresh notices and semester schedules. The faint hum of air vents and the occasional shuffle of footsteps gave the corridor its atmosphere.

Don and Charles walked side by side, the silence between them casual, not strained. They’d split earlier to register for their classes, and now that it was done, their talk returned to where it had been left.

Charles walked with his hands in his pockets, his silver hair shifting slightly with each step. Don walked looser, arms down, eyes occasionally glancing over the passing rooms.

"No matter how I look at it," Charles began, his voice low, "this whole thing feels off. I find it hard to believe my family is unaware and didn’t inform me. Either this truly is a unique opportunity... or we’re being played."

"Are you skeptical of joining?" Don asked.

Charles scoffed softly as they reached a stairwell and turned downward. The elevator just ahead slid open with a soft ding~, and a staff member stepped inside—a modestly dressed older woman in a dark office suit, hair tied back neatly, clutching a clipboard close to her chest. She pressed the button without so much as a glance in their direction.

Charles kept his pace, shoes landing lightly against the steps. "Skeptical or not, I’d be hard-pressed to let such an opportunity pass by. And truthfully, you shouldn’t either—especially with your eligibility." His tone carried a weight that wasn’t there earlier, oddly sincere.

He shifted his hands deeper into his pockets. "I’m sure Xiao has an agenda. But he’s right. Enlisting and excelling opens up a whole new world for us—one most can’t even hope to see, regardless of wealth, status, or lineage. The standard program’s already brutal. I can’t imagine what this will be like."

Don’s gaze flicked downward as they reached the next landing, the polished railing catching faint light. "More importantly—why it’s even happening."

Charles sighed as they turned again, descending further. "And here I was hoping this was the start of some leisure time."

"There’s no rest for the wicked," Don muttered as they hit the final steps.

The ground floor spread before them. Wide glass walls formed the lobby’s outline, paired with tall sliding doors at the front that framed the campus beyond. The receptionist’s desk sat near the center, papers stacked high, a line of students shifting in uneven patience as they waited their turns.

Some students clutched forms tight against their chests. Others hunched over, pens scribbling furiously at blank spaces, heads down.

The duo stepped into view.

Eyes turned toward them. First in twos, then more. Don kept his face plain, but it didn’t matter. The moment some of the students caught his gaze, they faltered.

A boy at the front of the line gulped audibly. Another girl looked down so fast her pen nearly slipped. One or two thumbed their phones nervously, screen light flashing across their anxious expressions.

Don smelled it—fear, sharp in its own way. Others were just anxious. He understood it. Even dressed casually, his presence carried too much reputation. To them, he wasn’t just an elite student—he was someone who was capable of killing.

He turned his head forward, letting the thought fade.

And that was when the doors slid open~.

Frostbite stepped through.

Her stride was cold, every line of her frame tight and precise. Her heels clicked against the tile, each sound neat, crisp, like ice breaking in. Her hair shifted behind her as the faintest draft followed.

Charles smirked when his eyes met her. She didn’t return it. She looked forward, gaze fixed straight as if the two of them weren’t even there.

She didn’t slow, didn’t hesitate. The temperature in the lobby dipped, a few degrees enough for gooseflesh to prickle along arms.

But Don caught it. Beneath the elegance, beneath the practiced stillness—her emotion was strong enough he could smell it.

Anger.

———

After leaving the academic wing, neither Don nor Charles had any more business on campus. They made their way to the landing pad where Charles’s chopper awaited, rotors already humming low as if anticipating their arrival.

The sun was already casting long shadows across the rooftop, the wind tugging gently at their uniforms as they boarded.

The flight back to the Penthouse Residence was brief.

Once they arrived, Charles stretched, gave a short yawn, and glanced toward Don. "I’ve got a few arrangements to make," he said casually. "You?"

Don’s reply was just as light. "Need to look into a few things."

They parted in the central hallway. No ceremony. Just the usual.

When Don returned to his quarters, he checked his phone and found a message from Winter. Apparently, she, Samantha, and Summer had gone to visit Summer’s school. Something about asking if she could finish her final year remotely. Amanda, on the other hand, was still asleep.

Don grabbed a quick meal from the fridge, eating with one hand while scrolling his phone with the other, then made his way to the residence’s private gym.

It wasn’t a massive setup—just enough for convenience. A treadmill, a small rack of dumbbells, basic mobility equipment, and a weight bench. To someone like Don, most of it was about as useful as paperweights. Still, he made do.

He hit the treadmill first. Speed dialed up well beyond safety standards, he ran in place like a blur, dumbbells floating beside him—each spinning slowly in the air under his telekinetic control. After several rounds, he moved to the mobility drills, then, eventually, to the bench.

He flopped onto it, wiped a small bead of sweat from his brow, then reached lazily for the heaviest weight on the rack. One hand. No strain. The bench creaked a little, but the bar didn’t tremble.

With his free hand, he swiped across his phone, tapping through messages with Gary.

He’d been updating him about the UPSDF matter, summarizing it plainly: a good opportunity, but something felt off.

Gary’s response was curt, as expected.

"Circumstances are strange, but potential gains are great. I advise we proceed with caution."

Don continued the conversation casually, now texting Hector, Donald, and Tori. He asked what they were planning for school, nothing more. He made no mention of the day’s events.

He was mid-rep when something tugged at his awareness. Footsteps.

Soft ones.

He glanced up toward the door just as it slid open with a low shfft~.

Summer walked in.

Still in her uniform, though barely. Shirt untucked, socks uneven, tie draped loose around her neck. Her brow was furrowed, and she looked like she’d been talking before even entering.

"Hey, dummy, are you in—Ack!"

Her voice cracked into a gasp. She froze. Her eyes locked on the weight in Don’s grip.

He was still mid-lift, completely at ease, one arm extended upward with the kind of muscle definition sculpted like artwork—toned and sweat-lined, made more surreal by the lighting.

Summer blinked once, hard. Her gaze dropped slowly from the weight... to Don himself.

Don didn’t say anything. He stood up instead, shoulders loose, and turned to return the weight to the rack.

Summer stood there for a moment too long. Then her hand moved fast. She dug into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and half-lifted it like she was trying to check something... or aim.

Don turned just in time to catch her.

Her hand stopped mid-air. Her eyes went wide.

He raised a brow. "What are you doing?"

Summer’s face twitched. She backed away half a step, looking everywhere but at him.

"Uh, nothing. Just hanging around... y’know," she muttered, voice slightly higher than normal. "Anyway, Mom just wanted to know if you were back. Not like I was looking for you or anything." She waved her hand aimlessly, fingers still curled around her phone.

Then she added quickly, "Anyway—you look dumb! With those... stupid muscles. Hmph!"

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. The door closed behind her with a whoosh~.

Don blinked once. Confused. Amused.

He wiped his brow with a nearby towel, then glanced down at his phone again. A buzz had come through.

Gary: "I will begin looking into the matter."

Don typed out a simple reply. "Good. By the way, I’ll be coming to the base later."

The response came almost instantly.

Gary: "Wonderful, sir."